Azure
by HalebFic
Summary: Hanna Marin is about to embark on the best week of her life when she goes on the senior year spring break trip with her friends. But everything goes wrong when the plane makes an emergency landing and she wakes up on a deserted beach with only Rosewood's resident bad boy for company. Will they work together to find a way back home or tear each other apart?
1. And Like a Dream Dissolved

**AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED**

On the evening before leaving for her senior outreach trip, Hanna Marin's closet looks like a hazard zone. Dresses litter every surface of her bedroom, and the floor is barely visible beneath the shoes that have been tossed in every direction. Feeling defeated by the sheer amount of outfit options, Hanna falls back onto the bed only to collide with the hard suitcase buried deep beneath a pile of tank tops.

"Ow," Hanna groans, rubbing the sore spot on her back.

"What happened in here?" Ashley says, popping her head in as she walks past the room. Her eyes grow wide as she surveys the room.

"Help me choose?" Hanna pleads, desperately.

Ashley takes a deep breath. Rolling her sleeves up, she crosses the room and sits down at the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle anything.

"You're lucky," Ashley tells her, "I am an _excellent_ packer."

Together the two of them start arranging the clothes into piles and with her mother's advice, Hanna whittles her many options down so that her suitcase finally closes without bursting the zippers. By the time they finish, both are exhausted and in desperate need of a relaxing bath.

"I'm going to miss you," Ashley says, stroking her daughter's hair. "It's too quiet when you're not around."

"It's only a week," Hanna tells her.

"I know," Ashley replies solemnly, "but it gets me thinking about next year when you'll be away at college and too busy to come home."

"Of course I'll come home!" Hanna assures her. "You probably don't believe this, but I'll miss you too."

"You won't," Ashley teases, "not until you've got to do your laundry."

Hanna rolls her eyes in response, glancing around the room to the piles of clothes that still need to be put away. Mustering her last bit of energy, she gets started sorting them to clear the bed so she'll have somewhere to sleep tonight. Ashley joins in, clinging to any excuse to spend more time with her daughter. They work deep into the night until sleep overcomes and a few hours later, they wake up under a pile of clothes as sunlight streams in through the blinds.

"Han," Ashley's rough voice is barely above a whisper. "You better get up, honey."

"Nooooooo," Hanna whines into her pillow, her eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Come on, you've got an early flight," Ashley chides her.

It takes five cups of coffee and two freezing cold showers to finally wake up the Marin women before they're off to the airport where the rest of Rosewood's senior class is milling about terminal four. A haggard looking teacher is doing a lousy job of keeping the students organized while reading off a checklist and the parents are no help, all weeping and just as exhausted as their children.

Ashley runs after Hanna as she hurries toward her friends. The four of them huddle in a corner while their mothers reminisce over the days when they were too young to go off on their own.

"Remember to wear sunscreen," Ashley reminds her daughter, pushing the bangs away from her forehead.

"I will, Mom," Hanna tells her. "Promise."

As the teacher calls for them to go through the security checkpoint, Hanna kisses her mother goodbye. They hold each other for a long moment, quietly biting back tears. And then finally, Ashley gives a little squeeze and ushers her daughter toward her classmates. It's symbolic in a way, a rite of passage, for Ashley to finally let her go. For so long, it was just the two of them, grieving together after their little family fell apart. And now, what should be a fun, quick trip is just a morsel of the separation their about to face when she goes off to college in a few short months.

But Hanna waves a teary-eyed goodbye to her mother before wiping her tears and running toward the security line. A teacher, balancing a large coffee and a clipboard, makes a vain attempt to keep his students from stirring up trouble. It's a grueling process, handing out flight tickets and herding a group of teenagers around an airport lobby, but eventually they all gather in the empty terminal, arms laden with trashy magazines and excess amounts of chewing gum.

Hanna leans against Spencer's shoulder as she scrolls through her phone. The four friends, who are usually so chatty, barely say two words to each other as they battle sleep in the early hours of morning. Across from Hanna, Aria is curled up next to Emily, her dark hair hiding her face.

"I can't wait until we get to Mexico," Hanna says, checking Spencer's watch for the hundredth time this morning.

"It's not a vacation," Spencer reminds her. "We're building homes, remember?"

Hanna rolls her eyes and sinks further into her seat. Spencer might need the outreach trip for her college applications but she'd read the hotel's website and made a mental note of the three different pools. She wasn't about to let the five bikinis she packed go to waste.

"Whatever," she says finally. "Anyone want a coffee?"

The girls all shake their heads and Spencer holds up the large Americano she's already sipping from in response. Anxious and eager to stretch her legs, Hanna takes her time walking to the furthest coffee shop in the terminal. She's halfway there when a disheveled guy, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, turns the corner and collides with her.

"Watch it," she snaps at him.

"Sorry princess," he grunts before storming past her.

Hanna recognizes him as the sketchy guy who hangs in the darkest corners of the school. He keeps to himself mostly but she recalls how rude he can be, considering how curt he was when she was selling tickets to homecoming. She ignores his lack of manners in search of caffeine and breathes a sigh of relief when she's finally holding a vanilla latte in her hands. The sudden rush of sugar jolts her awake and she wanders back to where her friends are sitting just as their flight is called to start boarding.

"Come on," Spencer says, urging them all up. "I want to make sure there's room in the overhead."

"Why do you insist on carrying your suitcase on?" Emily asks curiously. "We're all going to have to wait at baggage claim anyway."

"Because," Spencer says pointedly, "that way I'll never have to deal with my bags getting lost or scrambling around Mexico trying to find clean underwear."

"You're so pragmatic, it hurts," Hanna informs her.

"That's a new word," Aria teases.

"I've been studying for the SCT test," she retorts. "Vocab is a big deal apparently."

" _SAT_ ," Spencer corrects her.

"Does it matter? They write on the cover of the test. That's one of the few things, I _don't_ have to spell," Hanna replies. "Come on. We better get in line before Spencer's bag accidentally gets shipped to Malawi."

That awakens something inside of Spencer and her morning espresso kicks into high gear as she maneuvers her friends through the crowd. They're the first to board once priority fliers are seated and they all notice Spencer's annoyance at sitting in coach with the rest of them when she could have a cushy first class seat and a complimentary sleeping mask. But eventually they manage to board the plane and Spencer leads them to row eleven.

"This is me," Spencer says, stopping to stow her bag overhead before she sits down.

"Me too," Aria chimes in, plopping down next to Spencer.

"I think we're further back," Emily says, urging Hanna forward.

They slowly make their way through the plane, only to be disappointed when they learn their seats are on opposite sides of the aisle. Not to be deterred from spending the entire trip with her friends, Hanna slides in next to Emily, seat numbers be damned.

Both girls are still groggy from their early morning wake up call. Emily shuts her phone off while Hanna flips through a magazine, her foot tapping incessantly as a fear of flying resurfaces.

"You okay?" Emily asks her.

"Yeah," Hanna tells her. "Just too much coffee this morning."

Before Emily can respond, a sour-faced woman approaches their row. A man, presumably her husband, stutters as he tries to get Hanna's attention. After a long-winded attempt to plead their case, his wife finally interjects.

"You're in my seat," she snaps at Hanna, shooting a disgusted look toward her pushover of a husband.

"Sorry, just talking to my friend," Hanna tells her, suddenly frightened by the menacing woman. "I'll move in a minute."

"She's scared of flying," Emily chimes in. It was meant to offer comfort and possibly a solution but it's only another reminder of Hanna's fear. "Can't one of you take her seat? It's just on the other side of the aisle."

"You probably should have thought of that before you got on a _plane_ ," the woman says annoyed. "Do I need to call a flight attendant over to clear this up?"

"That's not necessary," a new voice cuts in.

Hanna, feeling increasingly nervous about takeoff, shivers as she looks up to see the same shaggy-haired guy from earlier standing behind this couple. His pointed gaze, which he often reserves for fellow Rosewood students, is now targeting the woman.

"You can have my seat," he says annoyed. "I'm the one next to hers. You can still sit together."

"No need to be a hero," the woman tells him. "We can all sit in our assigned seats. I'd be happy to call a stewardess and have this cleared up."

"Look lady," he retorts, "you're holding up all these people behind us. Just take the seat and sit down before you cause a mutiny. A _thank you_ will suffice."

She huffs in response and Hanna stifles a laugh as they make a show about moving to the opposite side, allowing their mediator to take the aisle seat next to her. Conflicted between her previous annoyance with him and this newfound appreciation, she finally musters up a note of gratitude.

"Thanks," she tells him. "You didn't have to do that."

"She was being an ass," he says, just loud enough for the woman to hear. "Plus I couldn't stand hearing her voice anymore."

"Well, thank you. I'm Hanna, by the way," she pauses for a moment, waiting for him to reciprocate, before adding. "This is usually the part where you introduce yourself."

"Caleb," he says gruffly.

She watches as he leans down, stowing his worn backpack under the seat in front of him. He pauses for a moment, digging through the front pocket, before he pulls out a pair of headphones, wrapped in a neat loop. Before he can plug in his music, prompting the universal sign for _leave me the fuck alone_ , Hanna stops him.

"Hey, you're with the Rosewood trip, right?" she asks.

"What's it to you?" he shoots back.

"Just, making conversation," she tells him. "It's a seven hour flight."

He's saved from responding when a flight attendant's voice comes through the announcement system, reminding everyone to take their seats before takeoff. Before Hanna can ask another question, his headphones block out any further interrogation and she sinks back into her chair as Emily offers her a stick of gum.

"Helps with the nerves," she says.

"Thanks," Hanna says, with a deep sigh.

"It's gonna be fine," Emily says, squeezing her hand. "I'll let you borrow my SAT study guide. You'll fall asleep in no time."

"Thanks Em," Hanna replies, but her voice is still shaky.

Her mood doesn't improve as the plane starts to taxi and she's a shivering mess during takeoff, gritting her teeth as the plane accelerates. It's not until the plane is calmly in the air that she finally lets go of Emily's hand, leaving behind deep marks where her nails dug into her friend's skin.

Hanna lets herself relax, trying to enjoy the fashion magazine in her lap but wishing she remembered her fake ID to order a vodka soda. She's all but forgotten about Caleb, the mysterious boy next to her who hasn't looked up from beneath his gray hoodie, and except for the occasional death look she gets from the vile women across the aisle, it's turning out to be a decent flight.

"Don't pay her any attention," Emily tells Hanna. "She just needs something to complain about."

"Feel bad for the husband though," Hanna says softly.

"He knew what he was getting into," Emily replies with a shrug. "In a few hours, we'll be in Mexico. No parents, no A, just fun."

In her rush to get away, Hanna had almost forgotten about their anonymous tormentor but Emily has a point, being in another country makes for a great getaway and offers at least one week of reprieve from the constant paranoia of being watched. That alone is enough to allow Hanna to finally enjoy the trip, without fear of being fifty thousand feet in the air, at least until the plastic cup on her tray table starts rattling.

"This is your captain speaking," she hears the words come over the announcement system. "We're experiencing a small bit of turbulence. Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign has been turned off."

Hanna exhales slowly, trying to ward off the terror as she clamps down on the armrests on either side of her. She doesn't even consider the fact that her fingers have wrapped around Caleb's hand, clinging for dear life, as her greatest fear is realized. From overhead, the oxygen masks are released and Hanna is officially in panic mode, despite the next words that are heard throughout the plane.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the captain says, "please stay calm…"

* * *

 _AN: Thanks for reading! This is the second story that's part of my Five Days of Haleb project. I hope you like it and you're ready for some Haleb goodness! Wanna chat? Find me on Twitter and Tumblr as "halebfic"_


	2. Alone

**ALONE**

Water washes against the white sand beach as the tide rises, dragging pebbles and bits of seashells onto the shoreline. Towering palm trees sway with the soft breeze that offers a small relief against the humidity. On the south side of the island, the sun shines brightly against the rocky cove where scraps of yellow canvas wave like flags in the air.

At the edge of the beach, beneath a cluster of trees, Hanna Marin sleeps soundly. Her hair is splayed out against a makeshift pillow constructed from a damp hoodie. With every breath, her chest rises and falls until her eyes start to flutter open. Caleb Rivers sits across from her, leaning against a tree trunk. He watches earnestly to gauge her reaction, holding his own breath until she finally opens her eyes.

Stirring, she scans her surroundings, taking in the clear blue water and vibrant, lush surroundings. The confusion is almost immediately apparent on her face and she squints her eyes until they finally land on the brooding dark-haired boy sitting in the shadows of a palm tree. Rage sets in when the realization hits her. They are stranded.

"What happened?" she asks, trying to find her bearings. "Last thing I remember we were getting on the plane and now I'm stuck here...with you."

His initial concern is gone as his gruff voice returns. Eyes narrow and he stares off in the distance, honing in far beyond the horizon. Before speaking again he clears his throat loudly.

"The plane malfunctioned," he explains. "I guess the current veered us off course from where the rescue team was."

"What?" she snaps at him. "How could they just leave us? Someone's got to be looking for us. Right?"

"Sure they are," he says with a shrug. "For a couple days, until they decide we're shark bait."

Hanna utters a gasp, clapping her hand over her mouth as if to quash the mere idea of not surviving.

"Don't say things like that," she chides Caleb. "Of course they're sending someone for us. I mean, our families won't give up-"

"Sure Princess," his words are piercing, "for _you_ maybe. They're better off without me."

On that note he stands up, disappearing into the surrounding jungle before Hanna can even react. She's left wondering who he's talking about or why he thinks his family would never come looking for him.

Fed up with his negativity, she shakes her head, trying to rid him from her thoughts, and makes a valiant attempt to explore the island. But her legs are stiff from countless hours of drifting to shore, none of which she remembers. In fact, she's not even quite sure how she ended up on the beach, or how she woke up with her head lying perfectly against her balled up sweatshirt. She wonders for a moment before deciding it must be due to the delirium from lack of sleep.

When she finally regains feeling in her legs, she crawls to the edge of the water in search of hydration, only to spit the salty water back on the beach. She thinks back to her summers at camp, trying to remember any valuable information. She's still shaky and a little bit in denial of the circumstances as she crawls around the beach, slowly rising to her feet when she's finally steady enough. Her limbs are weak so she doesn't make it far but she ventures as deep into the jungle as she can, hoping to avoid Caleb and his grouchiness.

The humidity makes the clothes stick to her skin and she quickly finds herself out of breath and exhausted. The jungle closes around her and she takes refuge on an overturned stone. Wiping the mud and fallen palm fronds from the top, she sits down for a moment.

She listens as the water brushes against the rocks and tropical birds call out to one another. Sun shines through the palm leaves creating delicate patterns against the mossy terrain at her feet. From this part of the island she can see how the waves lap against the beach in the distance. If she wasn't so worried about getting back home and what her poor mother is thinking, this might be paradise.

Slowly fear creeps in and she wonders how long she'll be stuck on an unknown land in the middle of the ocean, if she'll even survive long enough to be rescued, or if she will live out the rest of her life in desolation. For a moment she remembers there's always Caleb, but he's about as receptive as the rock she's sitting on.

Still deep in thought, trying not to dwell on the grim future, she realizes the sound of running water doesn't come from the direction of the beach. Her head turns toward a flock of birds flying into a clearing up ahead. Slowly getting to her feet once again, she inches toward the sound, ears on alert to hear the slow trickle of water crashing against water. As she stumbles toward the sound, it gets louder until she finally sees the way the sunlight reflects against water, shining right into her eyes as she approaches.

When she nears the clearing, a waterfall comes into view, spilling into a sparkling pool of clear blue. A small cove forms behind the fall, likely from erosion, and she watches as the birds fly underneath, emerging drenched before flying up into the sky. Desperate for anything to quench her thirst, she slumps at the edge of the pool and cups her hands beneath the water before scooping it up to her lips.

It's not cool or crisp like she imagined but it's fresh and it does wonders for her cracked lips. Hanna drinks greedily, scooping it into her mouth at once, letting it trickle down her face and cool her skin. It's a small glimmer of hope in this treacherous place and once her thirst is satisfied, she peels off her clothes and jumps into the water to soothe her aching muscles.

That's when she notices the scratches on her legs and bruises on her arms. Still unable to recollect how she made it to the island, she tries to ignore the nagging feeling that something is horribly wrong, and instead focus on scrubbing the grime from her body. She cuts through the water with long strokes, like Emily taught her, until she reaches the waterfall, letting the cascade beat against her back.

She stays there for a long moment, refreshed by the running water, before she realizes darkness will fall soon and she needs to find shelter. Gathering her strength, she crawls out of the pool and makes a futile attempt at drying off before she changes back into the sticky, damp clothes.

But now, deep in the jungle she faces the harsh reality that she doesn't know her way back, so using the only trick she knows, she listens for the sound of rolling waves, little by little making her way back to the sandy beach. From there she can see the sun setting above the horizon, prompting her to search everywhere for shelter. It doesn't take long to realize options are limited and there is virtually no cover. A quick scan along the shore tells her bugs are starting to emerge along the shoreline but she doesn't know what lies beyond the jungle besides tropical birds.

For a moment she considers risking it, lying down amongst the leathery leaves and calling it a night, but the great unknown is more terrifying than a few gnats, so she balls up the damp sweater to use as a pillow and makes a space beneath the palm trees at the edge of the shore. Her wet hair clings to her skin and she pulls her knees up to her chest in an attempt to recreate some semblance of comfort but it's no use and she spends most of the night awake, ears tuned to pick up every sound, in fear of the creatures that hide in the shadows.

In the morning the blinding sun coaxes her eyes open. Her dry skin is cracked and itchy where the mosquitoes have bitten her in the night. She swats them away with her hand and struggles to sit up, a gnawing ache in the pit of her stomach reminds her she hasn't eaten in days. Her lips are dry again and thirst burns at the back of her mouth. Feeling sick, she lunges forward, heaving over the sand.

A curse escapes her lips and she pulls her hair behind her head, spitting the last bit of sick onto the beach before crawling to her feet. Her body is weak from lack of food and it takes every last ounce of energy to walk back toward the waterfall deep in the jungle.

When her feet finally hit the damp rocks at the edge of the water, she collapses to her knees and leans down to drink greedily. The warm liquid quenches her thirst and slowly eases her pounding headache but it does nothing to satiate the debilitating hunger in the pit of her stomach. The next step is finding food.

If her muscles are sore, her head is in even worse shape. It takes every effort just to think straight and even six straight summers of camp never prepared her for this. She sits down exhausted, scanning every direction for a source of food, but despite the lush greenery, the island doesn't provide much sustenance unless she expects to live off of leaves and wet bark. Finally, she looks up and squinting her eyes, hones in a bunch of peculiar looking leaves fanning out from the top of a tree.

"Bananas," she mutters when she finally makes out the shape.

Hanna looks up, it's not a tall tree but they are barely out of reach. Wrapping her arms around the trunk, she slowly shimmies up toward the peak. But it's hard work and she nearly falls right off a few times, cursing herself for always skipping the rope climb in gym.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally reaches the top, hoisting herself up to get some leverage. With her ankles locked around the trunk, she grabs ahold of the banana bunch and tugs hard, ripping them off in a clean sweep. The motion causes her to lose balance and she slides down landing painfully on her tailbone.

Hanna winces, biting down hard on her lip as every nerve in her body rebels. When the pain finally subsides, she turns to the stack of fruit next to her before greedily diving in. The bananas are nowhere near ripe, still green and on the small side, but it's food and familiar so she scarfs down three in a row until her stomach finally stops growling.

As her strength returns, she wanders the island for any glimpse of survival, careful not to press to deep into the jungle for fear of what dangers might lie ahead. When darkness starts to set, she makes her way back toward the beach and as she settles down on the bank she sees him.

Standing knee deep in the waves, Caleb uses a makeshift spear to stab at the water, presumably trying to catch a fish. With his back toward her, she scoots behind a tangle of trees, still unsure of whether he's an ally or a threat.

She wonders how he spends his days, where he goes since they never seem to cross paths. He doesn't sleep on the beach like she does so there must be shelter somewhere else. And he's got enough strength to be fishing. She thinks about the waterfall. Has he been there too? Does he know there's a fresh source of water on the island?

Her thoughts are racing, still trying to figure Caleb out, when she watches him finally land onto the shore in defeat. Frustrated, he chucks the spear down the beach and buries his face in his hands. For a moment she considers offering him some bananas, but he hasn't been particularly kind to her nor forthcoming with his own salvaged provisions. Plus, she saw the way he lashed out at the spear. She definitely doesn't want to be on the other side of that anger.

So she stays hidden behind the trees, watching his silhouette as the sun dips beneath the horizon. Eventually he gets up, brushing off the sand, and grabs the spear that landed ten yards down the beach. Leaning on the staff for support, Caleb slips into the jungle as the last dregs of sunshine fade away.

* * *

 _AN: I know this story starts a little slow but I promise it picks up soon and moves at light speed. Thanks for reading!_


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